Of Awards, Publications and Delete Buttons

Last year, we launched the Spinetingler Awards. I wasn't happy with the level of voter participation for the Best Short Story On The Web category, and this year we made several changes in an effort to increase the exposure of the writers, and to generate more votes. I was pleased to see that the short story category was one of the most active awards during the voting process, and it was also a close battle, with the lead shifting throughout the voting.

However, this category still poses more of a dilemma for me than any other we have for the Spinetingler Awards. I know there are a lot of great stories being published online, and I know there are a lot of great online publications. I want to increase their exposure. This is good for the writers, as they may gain readers, and it's good for readers who are interested in short fiction. I believe it's ultimately good for the industry as well, as editors and agents have ready access to content online. I do know writers who've secured agents after having stories published in Spinetingler, and I must assume the same is true of other publications.

I set out to raise the level of participation, and we did that... So why is this category still frustrating me? Recently, I've been forced to question whether some online publications should be considered for the awards.

One of my specific goals has been to highlight the quality publications online. On many occasions in the past I’ve been asked to change a story that has been published in Spinetingler. If I realize that the error is one that I’ve made, or that was made in production, I will correct the work. However, if we ran the edited version of the story that was sent to us by the writer, we don’t make the changes.
Why? Part of the reason is that all writers have already had an opportunity to review their work and edit it. Most often, the writers who contact me after publication are the ones who responded five minutes after I put out the last call for edits and said the story was perfect. And while it’s possible that some of these writers really are sitting by their computer, with nothing else to do but wait for my e-mail, I’m left feeling that they either didn’t read their story or rushed through it. It’s possible they may have been so excited they really thought they’d read it over thoroughly… But usually they haven’t treated the editing seriously.

Now, perhaps it would be in the best interest of Spinetingler to edit these stories post-publication. After all, don’t the errors reflect on us? To some extent, yes, but there are several other reasons to consider. Beyond the time involved in a labor of love - for which the editing and production staff of Spinetingler do not get paid – there is the reality of the publishing business. What comes out in print cannot be recalled on a whim, and if a writer wants to get to the point where they can be published in magazines, or get a book deal, they need to understand the editing process, and they need to accept a little egg on their face when they make a mistake. I would think it’s easier to learn that through an online publication, with a limited audience, than to learn it after your debut book has been shipped to stores all across the country.

If we nominate a story, and then the story is subsequently edited and revised, it's unfair to the other nominees. I think that if a story has been posted online for several weeks or months, that if upon receiving critique of the story the author seeks to change it and the publication allows them to edit it, it damages the credibility of the publication. I can't take the publication seriously if a story I read today is changed three weeks from now. I'm not talking about a typo, like changing 'her' to 'here'. I'm talking about substantive changes to content within the story that are not based on factual errors.
Several years ago, I participated in some book discussions on Val McDermid’s forum. Some of us decided to read Val’s first book – REPORT FOR MURDER – and discuss it. It was 2005, and RFM had been published in 1987. Eighteen years later, how would RFM hold up against works such as the Dagger Award-Winning THE MERMAIDS SINGING and Val’s critically acclaimed standalone, A PLACE OF EXECUTION?

Val entered the discussion to answer a few questions, and said:
It's hard for me to go back to the very beginning because all I can see are the flaws -- the infelicitous words, the clunky sentences, the lack of sophistication in the plotting...

I look back on some of my early short story efforts and groan. I can see areas where the story could have been tightened, things that were unclear, repetitive word choices. I could re-write those stories today and make them so much better.

However, those stories provide a valuable marker in my development as a writer. Even just thinking about that book club discussion on Val’s forum stuns me with the awareness of how much has changed for me in the past four years. In 2005 I wasn’t close to having an agent or a book deal. Now, in 2009, my fourth book is in production and I’ve been translated into Japanese, and have a story coming out in Finnish this year as well.

Four years is actually a relatively short amount of time in the publishing industry. That may be hard for some to grasp. We live in a world that thrives on instant gratification. If we have to wait three minutes for food at McDonald’s it’s shocking. If our pizza isn’t delivered in 15 minutes we don’t want to pay.

In art, there is a public learning curve. Since the rise of American Idol we’ve seen contestants shamed by past actions and in some cases removed from the competition. It is perhaps a failing of the media, in response to our microwave-and-fast-food culture, that they quickly elevate previously unknown sensations to overnight celebrity status, and sometimes later find out that the person has a shady past, that the event that put them on the map was staged, or that they’re a lip-syncing fraud.

The other night we were having a family dinner, and the kids were playing with the video camera. I kept covering my face. When family members teased me about it I pointed out that we now live in the Youtube generation, and while I’m not a famous author I do have a public aspect to my career, and I have to think about that. I don’t want reams of video footage out there, just waiting for the right moment to be uploaded. Consider Miss California and, while I have a lot less to worry about as an author, you can’t deny I have a point.

A lot of writers fail to consider this. Many want the instant gratification, recognition for their genius. Some start blogs and post their work online, allegedly for feedback, but anyone who offers critique is usually chased off the blog. Others self publish, and while self publishing may sometimes be a viable option, part of the reason many authors and editors view it skeptically is because writers will self publish because they refuse to take editorial feedback, refuse to see their own potential for growth, and refuse to embrace the learning curve needed to grow to the point where they’re ready for publication.

There is value in being able to look back on your body of work and see the growth potential. While aspiring authors can take some encouragement from the fact that outstanding writers, such as Val McDermid, also went through a learning curve on their path to greatness, most of the value is for the writer of the work. The fact that I can look back on earlier efforts and see the weaknesses shows me how much I’ve grown as a writer. It’s the proof that I’ve improved over the years.

The mistakes of actors, journalists, comedians and even average citizens can be immortalized through the internet. Writers should consider this, and tread carefully, for an online magazine is no less significant than many print publications in terms of its potential for reaching a global audience. It is the responsibility of the writer to ensure what they submit for publication is correct, and it is the mark of maturity to own your mistakes.

Although some are enamored with instant celebrity, secretly, I think most people are reassured by the fact that the average person has to learn their craft. In the publishing industry things move slower. These days, debut authors are pushed as though they are already great and accomplished, but my experiences on discussion lists tell me devoted readers are skeptical of the debuts that come with fanfare and much acclaim. Even Dan Brown had a learning curve - The DaVinci Code was not his first book, or even his second. I have more respect for the slower burn of authors such as Ian Rankin, Laura Lippman and yes, even Val McDermid – writers who paid their dues, who learned the craft. Instead of looking back and trying to erase past mistakes they looked forward and focused on making the next work better than the last.

If, as a writer, you spend your career looking over your shoulder at what you’ve done, when will you ever have time to prove what you can do with new material?

Although we did not have a story nominated for an award this year that was revised upon nomination, there has been another situation I've been involved with that made me consider what I would do if that happened in the future, and there is no doubt in my mind about what would happen. The stories nomination would be revoked, and the publication wouldn't be considered in future years. If you - yes you, editor, and you, writer - can't take it seriously enough to get your product right I have no idea why I should treat it seriously.

On a personal level, I've fumbled my way through many online blunders and mistakes. I've had my disagreements with people, I've argued over issues and accusations. However, I won't simply press delete and restart a new blog or remove all my comments from forums to save face now. The people who do drive me nuts. To me, it's the other side of the coin in this equation. We want instant gratification, but we also don't want responsibility. The minute our actions have negative consequences we want to press 'delete' and obliterate the record so that we don't have to prove that we're just like everyone else - human.

On a professional level, we have to learn to take our lumps. I have so much respect for how candid Val was about her feelings about her own debut, and when I see that the greats in the business didn't start off perfect, but had room for improvement, it encourages me. Just because I didn't start with a flawless debut doesn't mean that some day, I can't produce a work as memorable as one of Val's.

However, doing that requires the willingness to grow, and dedication to the craft of writing. Running around and trying to edit out my past mistakes so that nobody will see them has no part in the process, but it does send a message to readers and editors alike. It tells me you're more invested in your image than your writing, and it tells me that you aren't motivated to get it right because of your dedication to the craft, but only if you get embarrassed.

Editors talk, and people get reputations. Own your mistakes and move on. Prove you're a bigger person.

Try to erase your mistakes and you may find your name gets on every editor's radar, and for all the wrong reasons.

I know it's painful to see mistakes attached to your work and your name. In one case, I had a short story selected by an ezine. They contacted about edits, and gave a window of time to make changes and submit them, but they'd put all the stories online (without active links from their site) for the writers to view. Despite the fact that it had been clearly stated they'd take a few days for changes and go live that weekend, one of the writers posted links to all the stories on their site the next morning. I'd made my changes and already e-mailed them in, but with the issue going live prematurely, those corrections were never made to my story. It was frustrating, but I certainly wasn't about to run around from blog to blog saying they hadn't posted my edits. Doing so would have been unprofessional, and while I may have technically been in the right, it would have made other editors leery of working with me in the future. Whatever you do, don't compound your first mistakes with actions that may have a long-lasting impact on your chances of being published again in the future.

Originally Published May 6, 2009 by Sandra Ruttan